


Play Something For Me (And Then I'll Play Something Better)

by darlingjegulus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Piano, Romance, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27075052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingjegulus/pseuds/darlingjegulus
Summary: Fred asks Cedric to teach him how to play the piano.
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Fred Weasley
Kudos: 17
Collections: my works with fred weasley/cedric diggory





	Play Something For Me (And Then I'll Play Something Better)

“What are you playing?”

“Something simple.”

That comment makes Fred laugh, softly, to avoid even the slightest offense. It should be expected that Cedric would be humble. He always was. A glance over to the sheet music resting on the stands tells a different story. The piece was far from simple. It was full of melodies, racing upward and back down, extending all over the staff, taking a journey through all the different pitches. The tempo isn’t anything too fast, a cadence with a gentle pulse, something relaxing to the senses, bringing ease. All of it combines into a more complicated entity, sounding like an impossible task to the untrained listener. Fred falls into that category; he’s never touched the instrument in his life, let alone attempted to maneuver about the machine correctly, managing to produce an eloquent theme. 

But maybe he’d like to try.

The idea comes to mind as eyes drift to the hands gliding over the keys so effortlessly. Those hands have always interested him. Every opportunity provided to grab at Cedric, to interlock their fingers, to squeeze with care, was always taken with joy. He liked playing with those hands as they rested together, with himself lying in Cedric’s arms. They would both smile as soon as that little action started. No matter how many times it happened, Cedric found amusement in observing the affinity towards his own digits. He never understood the love they were given. It was typical of him. He never fully believed he was deserving of someone who loved him so purely, so authentically. 

As Fred watched Cedric play, he became fixated once again on those hands. The way the muscles shifted whenever a key was almost out of reach, even how delicately he pressed them down like he was afraid of damaging the ivory exterior. And Fred found something else that fascinated him, too: the eyes. Never before had he seen such concentration from those orbs of a subtle grey hue. They shifted so smoothly between the notes on the page, staying both locked in on the present tone and yet so prepared for the one that was coming next. Those eyes were always beautiful, and somehow here they were even more so. And the smile, that unforgettable smile. It was mostly suppressed as he played, but a hint still existed, showing itself in the corner of his mouth with a slight curve upward. Fred was mesmerized as he watched. Even to him, it was intimidating just how gorgeous Cedric always looked. The boy looked so perpetually perfect and it was so natural, he never even had to try. 

With every passing second, Fred fell more in love.

“Hey, Ced?”  
The music comes to a halt.  
“Yeah?”

“Can you teach me how to play something?”  
That question elicits that stunning smile to make a return. Cedric nods.

He had been playing piano for years now. It was something his mother had begun teaching him when he was young, an idea met with wonderful enthusiasm. She sat on the bench and pulled her son into her lap, resting her arms just on his waist. Together, they worked on the most rhythm she could invent, sketched onto parchment with hurried handwriting. Cedric eyed that rhythm with determination and listened carefully as his mother explained the positioning of the different notes, what they all meant, demonstrating what they sounded like. Each new pitch discovered brought wonder to his expression. She played him the melody she had devised, slowly enough for him to follow along and process what had happened. After that, she grabbed his little hands and led by example, lifting those miniature appendages and pushing them down to the proper key, her own finger resting gingerly on top. The final instruction gave him the real test: playing on his own. With encouragement in his ear, he slowly pushed the keys until they made the correct sound. Mistakes were made, but anything less would have made him a prodigy. He finished with confidence and smiled, audibly cheering for his grand accomplishment. His mother tightened her arms around him and pulled him in close, leaving a loving kiss on the top of his head. It was like this every time they practiced together, and she always told him how proud she was.

Their lessons didn’t stop as he got older. They only morphed into something different. Instead of her being the teacher, they became collaborators, playing together, making something special. He played the treble line while she took the bass, and it collided to form one perfect synchronous piece. Sometimes they would look at one another in the middle of the song. It was there that she would see her son, so grown up from the little boy that just wanted to learn piano like his mother. One thing stayed consistent, the years failing to alter its course. It was the eyes. The determination and obvious tendency towards curiosity never left. That only got stronger with time.

Fred moved to join him on the bench and looked over the piano before him, taking in a sight somehow more overwhelming than before. He was used to jumping right into unfamiliar situations but this one was a foreign concept for which he had not the faintest clue where to start.

Cedric reaches over and slips his hand right over Fred’s, mirroring the method his mother had utilized. He intertwines their fingers, such a casual ritual for the pair, and guides their joint limbs to hover over the keys. He turns his head to look at the boy sitting next to him, bringing himself just close enough to press an innocent kiss or two to his cheekbone, unable to hold back a grin as he did so.

“Follow my lead. I’ll try my best to teach you how it works.”

His eyes return to the page and their hands move to the proper note.

“It starts on a C. Third space up, that’s a C.”

Already confused, Fred interjects with a question.  
“And how do you know which one that is on here? There’s got to be about fifty different things there to push on.”

Whether out of curiosity or out of impatience, he begins to hit random notes, almost as if he thinks the correct one will glow when struck. Cedric understands. A soft chuckle comes out as he watches this chaotic system of trial and error. It reminds him of how he was as a child first learning.

“You see these black keys, how there're groups of two and three? C will always be the first key to the left of the groups of two.”  
He points it out and pushes Fred’s finger down onto it.

“It goes C, D, E, F, G, A, B, and then back to C.”

A scale is played, showing off what he had just explained. Fred furrows his brows, finding the logic of that rule to be faulty.  
“That’s rubbish, it doesn’t even make any sense. What kind of nutter made that up?”

He manages to sound frustrated and amused at the exact same time, an inflection that Cedric picks up on easily.  
“I’m not sure. Maybe they knew that hundreds of years later, you would be trying to learn. Maybe they wanted to confuse you.”

“Well, they’re doing a great job at that so far. Keep going.”

They work, note by note, Cedric explaining the process as well as he can. He knows that it’s a complicated process and that he is instructing beyond the level of a novice who had only started that day. But he wants to see how Fred does with all the information, what he can make out of it. 

About two lines of music are diligently labored through before Fred can no longer contain his playful frustration. He releases his hand from Cedric’s and instead runs it through his hair, sighing and looking into the other’s eyes.

“That’s mental. Absolutely mental. I don’t know how you do it.”

Cedric shrugs, refusing to admit to having done something special. Fred notices and places his hand onto his cheek, fingers delicately stroking the skin.  
“You’re brilliant, you know that, right?”

The boy sitting beside him tries his hardest to subdue the tint of red coming to his cheeks, but with no such luck. 

Beaming at the sight before him, Fred has a proposal.  
“Tell you what. Play something for me, and I’ll play something even better.”

Just like before, Cedric nods and turns to the piano. His hands are rested onto the keys for a moment, waiting. He takes a deep breath and begins playing. 

It’s something he wrote himself, on a day where he had little else to do. Sitting at his desk at home, he put all the concentration possible into the empty parchment that was begging to be filled. The end result filled himself and his mother with pride. She looked it over with a never-ending smile, voicing comments of praise as she went. 

Fred watches with elation as Cedric plays his piece, no sheet music necessary, all from memory. He watches his fingers dance over the keys, listens as the soft melodies fill the room around them, bringing the scenery to life. Fred has little familiarity with music and yet he is so acutely aware of just how beautiful this piece is. He jokingly wonders to himself if he’s just merely blinded by love, or if Cedric is somehow becoming even more perfect than what he had viewed him as before. An adoring grin falls onto his lips.

But he’s not blinded by love. That makes it sound like a hindrance, like such a bad thing. The love Fred holds for Cedric is the furthest thing from bad possible.

It’s the best thing that has ever happened to him.

The playing finishes and Cedric looks to Fred. It’s his turn to show off his talents. After all, he had promised something better.

With an obnoxious crack of the knuckles, this new song is started.  
And it is nothing like the one that came before it.

Fred plays what can only be described as a tumultuous menagerie of notes. He knows it isn’t proper but he doesn’t care. The only intention is to have some entertainment, to bring forth amusement.

He just wants to make Cedric laugh.  
And it works. 

They look at each other, immaturity bubbling between them. Laughs evolve into something louder, something so much more free.  
It’s an incredible display of ecstasy.  
Uncontrollable happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> hiiiii thanks for reading!!:)) if you're interesting in following me and seeing updates for my future fics, my twitter is @96SDICAPRIO :)


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